


Late Night Confessions

by Lyss2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyss2011/pseuds/Lyss2011
Summary: “I have, a confession.” Arthur could feel his face twist on the last word and he was helpless to stop it. He would take a thousand-boar army over this any day. Not that he’d thought about it a lot, of course. Just once or twice. Per day.





	Late Night Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrzyFun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrzyFun/gifts).



> So.... this is the result of a [ prompt ](https://mischiefandspirits.tumblr.com/post/182053766142/what-about) from CrzyFun and comment from Posy on my previous fic. I have no idea how I wrote this so fast. I hope you both enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> Warning for suicide mention (but no actual suicide)

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to dispel the lump growing in his throat. He’d listened to Merlin’s chattering in silence all day as they rode into the forest on their latest impromptu hunting trip. Now, with a brace of rabbits for dinner there was nothing left to do except what Arthur had called this trip for. 

“Arthur?” Merlin looked up at him in concern, halfway through spitting the rabbits. 

If possible, Arthur’s back stiffened even further. Maybe he should wait until the rabbits were cooking to have this conversation. Then at least when Merlin stabbed him in the stomach it would be cauterized enough for him to make it back to Gaius without bleeding out. 

“ _What_ , Merlin?” he asked, a bit harsher than strictly necessary.

Merlin sat back on his haunches, a skinned rabbit dangling from one hand. Arthur had never thought of his manservant as particularly dangerous, but Merlin was particularly adept at skinning animals, even though he complained the entire time. The knife he’d used was at his feet, in easy distance if Merlin wanted to grab it. 

“Alright, what’s wrong, Sir Grumpyface? You didn’t yell at me once for talking too much or blatantly scaring off that deer when you were about to shoot it.” He brandished the skinned rabbit as he talked, and he must have seen something in Arthur’s face because he started waving more deliberately. “What, have you grown a conscience finally?”

“ _No._ ”

Merlin grinned widely. “No, you don’t have a conscience?”

“Merlin,” he warned. 

Merlin’s grin dropped. 

“I have, a confession.” Arthur could feel his face twist on the last word and he was helpless to stop it. He would take a thousand-boar army over this any day. Not that he’d thought about it a lot, of course. Just once or twice. Per day.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in an imitation of Gaius. “Can I finish spitting this rabbit first? I’m hungry.” 

“Fine.” 

Merlin was quick to spit the last rabbit and set the stake over the fire, and it didn’t make Arthur feel any safer. The stake could easily pierce his chainmail, especially heated like it was now. 

“Seriously, what’s with the rabbits?” Merlin asked, tearing Arthur’s gaze from the spit. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, looking back into the fire. At least if Merlin stabbed him he wouldn't be submitted to the horrors of the pyre. Small blessing.

“Alright,” Merlin said, drawing the word out like he was suspicious or thought Arthur had gone crazy. It was probably both. 

“I’m…I have m-magic,” he said, not lifting his eyes from the fire and the roasting rabbits. “I’m a sorcerer.”

Merlin was silent for a long time, but Arthur didn’t dare look up for fear of what he might see. 

“How do you know? I mean, what- what have you used it for?” Merlin’s voice was—something was wrong with it, but if his voice sounded wrong his eyes would look wrong, and Arthur didn’t think he could bear to see the disappointment or fear in his manservant – no, friend’s eyes. 

At least he had prepared for this question. “The Questing Beast. Father said that I would go down in legend as the first man to survive the Questing Beast’s bite. He cited strong Pendragon heritage, but I know that I was dying. Magic saved me.” 

“But, that could’ve been someone else. A, a benevolent sorcerer or something who knew what had happened to you and wanted to save you.” 

“It’s not the only proof I have, Merlin. I should’ve acknowledged it before, back when this happened, but I was too scared. I didn’t know you as well then, and I didn’t feel I had anyone else to confide in. When you drank that poison for me, and I went to the Forest of Balor to get the Mortaeus flower, I had to climb a cave wall to reach the flower. 

“I remember.”

“I could barely see anything in that cave, not the flowers nor how I would be able to leave once I retrieved it. I wished I had another hand to hold a torch, and suddenly a ball of light floated in front of me. It showed me everything; the flowers, the giant spiders that were coming up towards me, and the exit at the top of the cave.” He finally looked up from the fire and in Merlin’s direction, only to find him focused on turning the rabbits. “No one else was there, Merlin, and no one else knew exactly where I was except Nimueh, who definitely did not wish to help me.

“I didn’t want to believe it, but there’s no other logical explanation for it. There have been other instances, but these two are indisputable. And anyway, I was in the presence of the knights the other times, and I highly doubt a Knight of Camelot would choose to learn magic.” 

Merlin’s brow furrowed and he removed the rabbits from the fire to cool. “Did _you_ learn magic?”

“Well…no.” 

“So it’s possible one of your knights is in the same boat. Maybe he’s already pledged to protect Camelot and hit things for you, and then realized he was accidentally doing magic.” 

“Merlin, does one of my knights have magic?”

“I don’t know! But if one did, I bet he would be terrified, just as you are.” 

“I’m not _terrified_ ,” he lied. 

“Arthur, we’re in the middle of the woods and it’s clear now that the only reason was to tell me about your magic. I wouldn’t turn you in, you know.” 

“I know,” he replied softly. 

“So,” Merlin cleared his throat. “Does this mean you don’t share your father’s views on magic, then?” 

“Oh, no, of _course_ I share my father’s views on magic,” Arthur said sarcastically. “All this was just so I could stab myself and rid Camelot of my magic out of sight. I trust—” He stopped abruptly at the expression on Merlin’s face. 

“Merlin,” he reached out to lay a careful hand on his friend’s arm. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that,” Merlin said, his voice thick. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and for once the apology came easily to him. “I don’t agree with my father’s views on magic. If magic can heal, it’s an important tool we should be using to help the people of Camelot. I think it could easily be used improperly, but so could a s—sword. Or a knife, or mace or something.” 

“Gaius used to use magic for healing before the Purge,” Merlin said. “Sometimes, he tells me he could’ve saved someone if only he was able to use magic for it.”

“Does he have any books on using magic as a physician?” 

Merlin shook Arthur’s hand off. “It was called the Purge for a reason, Arthur. Your knights have searched Gaius’ chambers several times since I’ve been here, and haven’t found anything. If they did, Gaius and I would both be bound for the pyre. Uther allows him to keep his books on magical creatures but not anything that looks like a spell.” 

Of course. There went that idea then. “Dinner is probably cool enough to eat,” he said, to say something.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Breakfast tomorrow then.” 

Merlin obediently packaged up the rabbit, banked the fire and rolled out their bedrolls. 

They were both staring up at the stars through the trees when Merlin said, “You’re a better friend than I am, Arthur.” 

Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin’s profile in the dying firelight. His first instinct was to say _Who says we’re friends?_ but he had no leg to stand on, having been the one to confide in Merlin over everyone else. “How so?” he said instead. 

Merlin swallowed. “I have a confession as well. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you but, you’re the prince and…”

Suddenly Arthur realized what Merlin was about to confess. The questions, his reaction when Arthur said he still believed his father about magic and sorcerers…it all fit. 

“Merlin, please tell me you’re not going to confess to being a sorcerer as well.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before,” Merlin started. 

“I don’t really want to hear it, Merlin. It’s bad enough that I have magic, but that you have it as well? Why are you still here? For Gaius?” 

“You don’t have magic, Arthur.” Merlin finally turned to look at him and his eyes were glowing gold. “I bartered for your life when you were dying after the Questing Beast. Gaius saw me creating a ball of light and calling out your name when I was poisoned, and I’m sure I could explain the others as well.” His eerie eyes flicked upward and the same ball of light that had convinced Arthur he was a sorcerer floated above him. 

Arthur sat up with a sigh. “Why are you here, Merlin? Why did you even come to Camelot in the first place? Magic is legal in Ealdor; there was no reason for you to leave.”

“I told you before, I didn’t fit in anymore.”

“Was it because of the magic?”

“Among other things.”

Arthur sighed again. He wasn’t going to get a straight answer about that, not yet. “So I’m really not a sorcerer?”

“No, you’re really not.”

“Why’re you being so calm about this? I was more nervous to tell you I had magic than I was fighting the Questing Beast.”

Merlin reached a hand over from his bedroll. Arthur took it – it was trembling. “I’ve become very good at keeping up appearances when I need to,” Merlin said. 

Arthur hummed. He had a thousand more questions to ask, but his eyes were having trouble staying open. The emotions of the day were catching up with him, and the knowledge that Merlin was looking out for him, protecting him with magic the way Arthur protected him with sword made him relaxed and content. 

He squeezed Merlin’s trembling hand and mumbled, “You’re safe, idiot. Thank you,” before drifting off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and criticism always welcome! :)


End file.
